Recently, I came across the TV show on Hulu, Wu-Tang: An American Saga, and as a huge fan of the group growing up in the ’90s, I sat down and binged the first six episodes. I plan to watch another four tonight, but it got me thinking: When did music stop being personal?
Back in the day, when we heard rap music and loved it, it was because artists were telling stories. Whether it was The Notorious B.I.G. rapping, “It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine,” or “Born sinner, the opposite of a winner. Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner…” or DMX saying, “Group homes and institutions prepared me for jail. They put me in a situation forcing me to be a man, when I was just learning to stand without a helping hand…”
These were songs that made us perk up and listen. They made many of us interested in these strangers because, while their stories were not unique, they were creative enough to take an instrumental and turn it into something real. Music felt personal. Music felt relatable. Music felt safe. When rappers talked about sipping bottles of high-end champagne, it was not a dig at poorer people. It was their way of saying, “Look what I get to experience now through hard work and talent.” That was the inspiration.
NOW, IT FEELS FAR FROM THAT.
Today, we listen to artists and, instead of feeling inspired, the music can come across as condescending. It can feel like they are telling listeners that we are too broke to live like they do, that we cannot possibly be happy, and that they are the ones we should look up to simply because they are rich. It starts to resemble a child on a playground teasing another child for not wearing the latest fashions, even though they all live in the same neighborhood.
And the reality is, many of these artists are not financially free. They are often tied to the same systems and pressures as the very people they sometimes belittle in their music. Then we wonder why hip-hop struggles and why music does not sell the way it once did. People do not listen to music to be talked down to—they listen for connection, for escape, for something that resonates. I had the chance to attend a listening party last week where an author, of all people, paired a musical soundtrack with her books. The album is called The Naida Saga, featuring eight songs that correspond with the books of the same name.
Here is why I loved it, and why I think it will be extremely successful:
It is a new concept. Lisa K. Stephenson is pushing a new storytelling format that blends literature with commissioned, character-driven music across a serialized novel experience.
She is making music personal again.
To some, this may seem minor, but it is far from it. It is what made listening to music an experience back in the day and what made music timeless. We still go back to old-school R&B and hip-hop because those songs made us feel good. When I listened to The Naida Saga at the event, it felt nostalgic. My favorite songs were “Where I Belong” and “The Shadow Beside Me: Armor.” I bought the album and have had those songs on repeat for days.
It should not have taken an author—someone who is not a musician—to commission songwriters, producers, and performers, describe what she wanted to create, and have them bring it to life just for us to experience music that feels personal again. This is especially true when record labels are investing millions of dollars into artists and even manipulating charts. It is absurd.
BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE, A SHIFT IS COMING.
Jay-Z was recently interviewed by GQ, where he emphasized the lack of authenticity and emotional honesty in music today. He reflected on how earlier work came from real lived experiences, not mass appeal. Trends like stan culture and social media rivalries are damaging the industry. Nicki Minaj tweeted a few months ago that she would release an album on March 27, 2026. The album did not materialize. Although she later retracted the announcement, citing the need for further negotiations with her label, many of her fans still believed it would be released.
Some even went as far as to say they felt devastated over the lack of new music—and we are talking about an artist with over 100 songs and five studio albums. Yet, new music and images are still what they crave. And then there are the AI-generated images fans create, which only deepen the issue.
Parasocial relationships are reshaping music culture. Fans have shifted from forming personal connections with songs to forming attachments to the artists themselves. In many ways, we have lost the plot. Artists no longer need to pour their lived experiences into their music because audiences can already watch their lives unfold in real time through social media. Why listen to someone sing or rap about their life when you can simply open an app and see it?
I believe creatives like Lisa K. Stephenson and icons like Jay-Z have the right idea. We are returning to emotional depth, diary-style songwriting, and music that carries meaning and purpose—music that does more than talk down to listeners. At the same time, many true creatives are stepping back from constant public exposure. Artists like Ariana Grande, Beyoncé, and Lady Gaga are not putting every detail of their lives on display for daily consumption. The story is in the art—and that is where it should remain.
Image Credit: GQ Magazine
Diamond Brown covers music with a focus on cultural influence, artist evolution, and the business behind sound. Her writing explores how music shapes identity and wealth, offering a refined perspective on an industry driven by both creativity and strategy.
